


an arm and an eye: what didn't you sacrifice to the cause?

by PomoneCorse



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Big Sister Instinct, Broken limb, Gen, mention of eye trauma, mentions of a very orange sidestep, post-gala
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-11-02 00:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20563517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PomoneCorse/pseuds/PomoneCorse
Summary: On the worst days, he wonders if he could fly away. Step off - no. He wouldn’t walk. He would get out of this damned wheelchair, casts and all, and float up. Up, up, up.(Bad Things Happen Bingo,prompt me for more)





	an arm and an eye: what didn't you sacrifice to the cause?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unluckywords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unluckywords/gifts).

> _ unlucky-words asked:  
broken limb and big brother/sister instinct for herald and ortega?? romantic or not, just. ortega helping him through physical recovery after the gala fight _
> 
> mentions of one of[Sadella's](https://sidesteppingthefuckout.tumblr.com/) sidesteps, Eugene (villain name: Avantgarde)

On the worst days, he wonders if he could fly away. Step off - no. He wouldn’t walk. He would get out of this damned wheelchair, casts and all, and float up. Up, up, up.

It’s not the first time he’s at the Memorial Hospital; heroing does not leave anyone untouched. Not even golden boys with golden hair and blue, blue eyes (it didn’t leave his brother untouched) and (it didn’t leave Sidestep - no, no, Eugene now - untouched) and (it didn’t leave Ortega untouched) and (it didn’t leave Steel) and (it didn’t leave it doesn’t leave it’ll never leave).

“Hey, Daniel.”

He knows that voice. He knows that woman.

“Hey,” he answers, plastering on the same smile he uses for everyone but the mirror. He knows better than ask what she’s doing here. He failed to stop Avantgarde, so that means he failed Julia, and so she got hurt, and so. and so. It’s his fault.

Julia sits down at his side, arm in a sling. Her face is bruised, lower lip split and healing, but she smiles at him, something more real than the one he offered her. An ugly purple blemishes her neck, stark contrast to the white blouse, to scarred and modded skin. He hands her his unopened energy drink, doctors and nutritionists screaming in the back of his mind, and tries to look more human than he feels.

“You did good,” she says, before sipping from the offered bottle.

Out of the corner of his one remaining eye, he sees Julia staring off into the distance (not far, not far, not with the ivy-covered brick wall surrounding the hospital’s yard). He doesn’t know what to reply to that, mostly because- well. It isn’t true. He lost an eye; he lost his pride, he feels like he lost more than he knows. People died, and here he is feeling sorry for himself, pitiful boy, whining child, self-centered-

“You did, Danny,” Julia’s voice, even and strong, despite the bruises twisting her face. “You held off Avantgarde all by yourself-”

“But I could have done better!” he almost shouts, body and mind burning as much as his face, the shame of it all rushing in his ears. He failed! “I should have been smarter,” he continues, more composed, throat thick with emotion and the need to make her understand just how far the golden boy of the Rangers fell that night.

“And so should I. Or Wei, or the security that night, or-” Julia stops, grimace fissuring her previous easy-going grin. She takes deep breaths. When she speaks again, she puts her free hand on his arm, carefully. It reminds him of- of his brother. Of long-gone ghosts.

“I’ve been there before, Daniel. I know what you’re feeling.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s fourteen again, the enormity of his actions catching him by the throat, a piece of his heart ripped out and gone, a hole that he doesn’t think can ever be filled. The magnitude of grief rushing in a tidal wave a decade later, over kind words and companionship, of a woman who has suffered so much more than he, he feels.

Julia must see the look on his face, because the next thing he knows he’s got a faceful of hair and one strong arm around his shoulder, pressing him close. It’s ungraceful, with the sling across her chest, but oh so soothing: the steadiness, anchor in turmoil.

He breathes, and with his remaining eye closed it’s like he hasn’t lost anything at all.


End file.
